The Little One with Green Eyes

48: His Son Part I

-December 7, 1991-
With Dumbledore's slowly cooling corpse to the left of him, Voldemort stood in silence as he tried to figure out where the old coot had hidden his son. Death hovered over the ground next to him, his face drawn up and pensieve. Dumbledore, while completely off his rocker, had a lot of connections while he was still alive, which meant Little One could be anywhere.

"Where would Dumbledore hide him?" he asked to himself, absently beginning to pace. "Perhaps the Order...? But, no, Severus said..."

Voldemort frowned. According to Severus' hasty response, Dumbledore had alienated the Order after he kidnapped Little One, which meant that the likelihood of the Order housing his son was slim to none. Voldemort growled with frustration, his hands coming up to anxiously tug his hair.

There wasn't much time left at all. The tether that Voldemort had grown used to was steadily growing weaker as more time passed, signaling Little One's descent. Voldemort figured he had less than two days to find Little One and revitalize him with magic before it was too late.

Despite the battle with Dumbledore being over, Voldemort was no closer to finding his son. And now the only person who knows where Little One is, is dead. Voldemort let out a growl of frustration and sent a hex at Dumbledore's unmoving body out of spite.

"We need to find Little One, and soon," Voldemort said, turning to face his paramour. "Do you have any ideas where he might be?"

"With Dumbledore's soul residing in my domain, I know everything," he said, and Voldemort felt his face lift with joy. "However I am unable to directly tell you."

"What? Why not?" Voldemort demanded, his fury leaking into his tone. "You know where Little One is!"

"My Sister's plan is still in place," Death lamented. "I cannot interfere."

Voldemort let out a hoarse shout of frustration. "Damn Fate," he cursed, running his hands through his hair as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Is there any way you can tell me indirectly?"

Death smirked. "Where is Severus and his lackeys? Weren't they meant to report to you?"

Voldemort's eyes widened. "Indeed they were," he said with a smirk. He focussed his magic on the Dark Mark and called Severus, Black and Lupin. He could feel their marks tugging in response to Voldemort's summons, and Voldemort waited for a few seconds until they appeared in front of him.

They looked awful. Their faces were haggard and dark from lack of sleep and stress, and Voldemort could tell they took his last warning to heart. They struggled into a deep bow, their faces displaying their true exhaustion. "My Lord," they said.

"What news have you for me?" Voldemort demanded, his eyes flashing with the frustration and rage he could feel boiling inside of him.

"There is no sign of Little One, My Lord," Severus said, cringing when Voldemort hissed. "We have been searching through the Headmaster's office in search of records but have found nothing so far."

Damn Dumbledore. Even in death, he caused Voldemort problems. "Anything else to report, you useless excuses of Death Eaters?" Voldemort snarled.

"The Order is very angry with him," Black said, his voice tight with nervousness. "They all agreed to have nothing to do with Dumbledore when he returns. He's officially lost any support he had."

"Interesting, but ultimately useless to me," Voldemort said with a careless wave of his hand. "Seeing as Dumbledore will not be returning to them."

The trio in front of him sucked in a sharp breath, their eyes suddenly drawn to Dumbledore's corpse beside him. Voldemort internally cackled at the sight of awed horror in their eyes. Severus stared at the body for a long time before he lifted his head slightly. "If I may, My Lord?" he asked.